Page 73 of A Reckless Memory

Pink dotted Aggie’s cheeks. She wasn’t used to wearing her heart on her sleeve anymore. “She’s going to think I’m a weirdo for not mentioning I knew you.”

“She doesn’t think you’re a weirdo, and I only said I worked as hired help for your family. Just Archer and Dad know the details. Come on. I heard from a reliable source the shandy on tap is the best.” I hopped out and pulled the collar of my coat up to cut as much wind as possible. Aggie rushed out of her side of the pickup, and we trotted across the parking lot to get into the warmth.

A vestibule had been added to help cut the cold and hold the heat flowing in and out of the doors during the seasons. The dull roar of steady conversation grew louder as we entered. People filled the high-top tables and stools. Regular wooden tables in the back were covered in various board games, their players concentrating and chatting with their mugs of beer.

Beams arched over us, much of the metal securing the joints looking original. I was told they used as much of the building as they could, and it showed in the burnished wood grain. The windows couldn’t be the same ones from a century ago, but the frames around each one weren’t comprised of new slabs of wood.

I put my hand on the small of Aggie’s back and steered her toward two empty stools at the edge of the bar. Isla said she’d save them for us so we could chat. My tall cousin with the long blonde braid was at the row of taps that were separated from giant, silver, chilled brew tanks by a decorative wooden half wall.

She turned to hand the glass to a customer, her gaze falling on me. Her face lit up, and she waved like I was a friend she hadn’t seen in forever. “You made it! Cold enough out there for ya?”

“Bitter,” I said good-naturedly. I made introductions, and Isla nearly bodysurfed on the bar top to shake Aggie’s hand.

“Aggie, nice to see you again. How’s the new job?” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess it’s not so new.”

“Great. Your dad is a good boss.”

She tilted her head, and her long braid slid off her shoulder. “Now that’s odd to hear. He’s loosened up a lot. I never thought of him as being the guy everyone wanted to work for, but he’s been at the refinery for almost forty years. I don’t know what he’ll do when he retires.”

Surprise flitted across Aggie’s face. “He’s retiring?”

Isla winced. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Nothing’s concrete, but I actually heard him mention it. Years ago, I’d have guessed he’d never retire.”

Cameron could’ve quit ten years ago and still be fine for retirement. He probably didn’t have to work. Dad would work until he was in the ground and then he’d want to keep going after that.

Archer’s question about Dad seeming tired resurfaced. I made a mental note to call Dad again. I’d talked to him at Christmas, but the urge to call him more than once a week was strong.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Aggie smiled. “His secret.”

“Where’s McCoy tonight?” I asked.

The blue in Isla’s eyes danced. “He opted out of the New Year’s Eve chaos to stay home with Ian. The baby will be in bed by eight, and McCoy will probably be asleep on the couch by eight thirty.” A customer at the end of the bar called her name. She patted her hand on the bar. “Shandy and root beer?”

“Whenever you get a chance,” I said. “I can see you’re swamped.”

When she was gone, Aggie peeked at me, curiosity and gratitude in her eyes. “We didn’t have to come tonight.”

The noise made it hard to hear, but I had no problem twisting on my stool so I could prop a leg on each side of her and rest my hands across her hips. We had no place for our coats, but I didn’t know how long we’d be here. “I wanted to. Just like I wanted to bring you.”

“I know you said you met all your relatives, but I’m really glad.” She finished so softly I almost didn’t catch her words.

“Me too, but I have to say, the longer I’m here, the more I think Dad really left to get out of working outside in this weather.”

“It’s not Texas.”

“Hell, I don’t remember Montana being this brutal.”

Isla swung by to slide us each our drink. The label of my root beer was a picture of my cousin Liam’s twin boys sitting on a barrel with the name Twin Boots.

I nodded my thanks and took a drink. Sometimes, I had a beer or something stronger to fit into a social gathering, mostly to keep shit-talkers off my back. I resented having to repeatedly explain that I didn’t have a taste for alcohol, and I was happy to let Aggie enjoy herself while I chauffeured us around the county.

“Those were mild years,” Aggie said, turning into me until we formed our own little unit tuning out the rest of the place.

“We also spent a lot of the time in the cabin.”

She tipped her head toward me. “In bed.”

I lightly kissed her lips. “And in the shower.”

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